


three is company.

by grantaire (AllieisaWriter)



Series: the bible didn't mention us. [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Best Friends, Courfeyrac Is A Little Shit, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, If that's bad luck i wonder what good is tbh, M/M, Multi, Okay Ending, Other, bossuet is so unlucky lol yeah right HE GETS JOLY AND MUSICHETTA I???, jehan is a morbid flower loving writer, joly is just like [FRUSTRATED GROAN], maybe possibly one ship that i end happily, polyamarous relationships, practically canon tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllieisaWriter/pseuds/grantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly has feelings for Bossuet, and he's not sure what to do when Bossuet gets a girlfriend. He's even more unsure when he gets feelings for the girl as well. And when they reciprocate the feelings, Joly is even more of a muddle. Maybe Grantaire is right, and he should just apply for Oprah? </p><p>EXTRACT:<br/>"She laughs, and Joly can’t help but laugh too because he read somewhere that laughter is infectious; and this is one infection he doesn’t mind picking up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	three is company.

**Author's Note:**

> My first time really writing/thinking about these three. But I'm not so proud of it, and want to come back to them because I think j x m x b is a very gorgeous and healthy relationship, that deserve more depth and time, but I'm posting anyway. I hope you enjoy (and if you spot any near-brick bits I'll give you cookies)

Joly and Bossuet are best friends. It’s a common known fact and generally accepted by all. No one really thinks about their relationship in depth, simply because there seems to be no reason to. Joly is glad of that, anyway, because he’s not sure what their relationship really _is_ anymore.

They’ve been friends since they were thirteen, and Bossuet switched schools because the unlucky bastard tripped over during chemistry class while carrying a lit Bunsen burner and accidentally set his teachers lab coat on fire. It was a perfectly innocent mistake, but Joly could see why his friend thought it prudent to switch schools.

But lately, with university and new friends and all the uncertainty that the first few weeks bring on, Joly’s a bit unsure about where there friendship is going. He’s not just thinking this out of insecurity—trust him, he’s got enough insecurity to sink a small boat, but this is a real Thing he’s stressing over. Mainly because, after a couple of nights out, Bossuet has gone home with Joly and they’ve made out. Make out, cuddle, sleep, and wake in the morning like nothing had happened. But they both know something is happening- it’s like they can sense it. This pressure that’s building like a tidal wave.

Joly has lived his whole life secure in the fact that he was straight as a plank, but now he’s not so sure, because he looks at his best friend; and suddenly the light shining on his bald head is beautiful, and the way he rolls his eyes when Joly’s sure he’s dying from a tropical disease is beautiful and the way he trips over is beautiful. But he’s not certain he feels that way about any other guys, so he decides more research is needed. He enlists the help of Courfeyrac, because he seems to be the resident expert in these matters.

He waits for his friend’s laughter to subside after he asks Courfeyrac whether he think Bossuet is attractive or not, before giving his friend a look that says ‘just answer’. Courfeyrac shrugs.

“I guess he’s good looking.” Courfeyrac muses, glancing over at Bossuet from the corner where he and Joly were sat. “Personally, I like a bit of hair. Something to grab onto you know?” He smirks at Joly and Joly can’t help but grin back.

“I think—well I’m not sure. I think I really fancy him.” Joly admits, and as soon as he says it. It feels more real. Courfeyrac nods in understanding.

“Well you guys spend all your time together.” Courfeyrac comments. “I get like that too. I mean ‘Ferre and Enjolras are totally gorgeous. And I’ve only found them to be even lovelier the longer I know them.”

“I mean I think I want to... you know.” Joly prods. “But I’m not... is it just him... or all men?”

Courfeyrac just gives him a small smile, and pats his friends shoulder. Joly knows that a million and one scenarios are going through his friend’s head right now. Courf would offer himself up if he thought it would help Joly figure his feelings out.

“Does it matter?” Courfeyrac says finally. “I mean, if you’re into Bossuet, then you’re into Bossuet.” It’s a refreshing take on things, and Joly sighs.

“What a pickle.”

“As Mama Courfeyrac would always say, pickles can be tickles” Courfeyrac said sagely. Joly gave him a look and he backtracked. “Well, I’m sure she would have said something equally as wise if I ever asked her about pickles. For that matter- I’m not a big pickle fan. I prefer not pickled things. Cucumbers, for instance.” His friend rambled, and Joly’s mind was put at ease, because Courfeyrac had this way about him that said what needed to be said and dressed it up in nonsense to make the point a little softer, and easier to digest.

 

Of course, nothing gets sorted out that quickly or cleanly. There’s always a little mess. Joly considers this during his one hour a week placement in the A&E department of the hospital, handing out little cardboard pots for people to cough up blood into. Always a little mess before things get better. In his case, the mess was a girl called Musichetta. He and Bossuet had met her in the library, and both had fallen for her instantly; he knew Bossuet liked her so he had let him go for it.

They had hit it off instantly, and Joly and Bousset’s drunken make out sessions became farther and fewer in between; and Joly wasn’t sure how he felt about that. However, after having lunch with both Musichetta and Bossuet, and falling for them both all the more he went to the pub where he knew that Grantaire would be. If you had a problem that you were trying to avoid, getting drunk with Grantaire was always the best option. However, he was with Courfeyrac, Jehan and Bahorel, but they all seemed a little tipsy.

“We’re celebrating!” Jehan smiled, pulling up a chair for Joly.

“Yes, we are!” Courfeyrac beamed, and handed Joly a drink.

“What are we celebrating?” He asked.

“I got a first.” Jehan smiled proudly. “For my creative writing module. I titled it ‘All Flowers Die: Wilting in Winter.” Jehan was dressed in his usual bright ensemble; red sweater with pink skinny jeans that Joly swore Musichetta had the exact same pair.

“It was very dark and morbid.” Bahorel added, handing over a small file that was no doubt Jehan’s project.

“Don’t read it if you want to be happy, Jolly.” Grantaire punned.

“I don’t think I can be truly happy anymore.” He sighed, sorry to bring the party down but wanting to get it off of his chest.

Grantaire raised his glass and drank to that, and deeply. Jehan smiled and muttered “suffering is the bread of life.”

Courfeyrac looked concerned. “Is this about..?” He trailed off, unsure whether to continue with company. Joly was very much past caring.

“Bossuet. Yes. Yes and no.” He drank, wincing at the thought of what it could do to his liver and his brain. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh right.” Courfeyrac paused. “The pretty girl, what was her name again?”

“Musichetta.” Joly sighed out her name, the syllables came so easily to him.

“You like her?” Bahorel seemed surprised.

“I’m wild about her.” Joly admitted.

Grantaire sniggered. “So you’re into her? And she’s dating your best friend? Whom you also happen to be into? Someone call Oprah!”

“I wish that was the whole story..” Joly shot a glare at Grantaire.

“Do continue.” Jehan said, resting his chin on his hands and looking at Joly with interest. Joly vaguely wondered if Jehan was going to save his misfortune for a short story idea; except in Jehan’s short stories the love struck hero usually committed suicide, so he hoped not.

“Well, Bossuet and I.. We… make out a lot. Nothing too intense you know? Just a cuddle and a few kisses. And it hasn’t stopped even though he’s with Musichetta even though it’s happening less. And then yesterday she messaged me on Facebook-“ he ignored Grantaire’s disgusted noise, the guys had a thing against social media for some reason- “asking me if I wanted to come over for, and I quote ‘fun times.’”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Courfeyrac said. “You guys are friends, right?”

“But I’m in love with her! And I always feel guilty because of Bossuet and I.”

“This would be so much easier if people were much more open to threesomes.” Courfeyrac sighed. Jehan nodded, as though agreeing with that train of thought.

“Well, Bossuet has mentioned he’s always wanted a threesome.” Joly added, before blushing. “Not that I would ever consider it. It’s awkward.”

“More awkward than this?” Courfeyrac countered, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds like ‘Chetta and Bossuet have a pretty open relationship, buddy. If they’re both making moves on you.”

Joly took another sip of his drink, nodding, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because four of his friends were discussing this like it was a normal everyday scenario. Maybe it was, in Courfeyrac’s case anyway; although Joly had doubts that the guy had as much sex as everyone seemed to assume. He didn’t even want to know about Jehan and Grantaire, who were easily the most unpredictable of his group. “Well, how do I go about it?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Get them both drunk?”

Jehan shook his head. “Candles. Candles are always a good place to start. Invite them for dinner light some candles and et voila mon ami, they are yours.”

Joly looked to Courfeyrac. “New trousers.” The two words seemed to be his only advice.

Joly looked down at his trousers, they were just a pair of denim jeans. Maybe a little old, but there was nothing wrong with them!

“Like, nicer ones. That show off your legs.” Courfeyrac grinned. “Tighter ones. I think I saw a pair of these gorgeous pants in Topman that would suit you.”

Joly takes this into account. Grantaire seems incensed at the advice. “Topman!?” he exclaimed. “How much are they going to cost him!?

Bahorel just shook his head. “Mate, they’ll probably get the hint if you flirt back a bit. If they want a threesome they’d ask, and if they don’t, then they don’t. Sorry, buddy.”

Joly thanks them for their help, but he may as well have thanked them for nothing because it wasn’t very useful. It didn’t help that he felt a tightness in his throat. He better not be getting a cold; there was nothing worse than flu symptoms combined with heartache.

He gets to his flat after a quick shopping trip, and Musichetta and Bossuet are already there. They’re sat on the sofa, xbox controllers in hands and shouting obscenities at each other. Joly feels like he’s intruding as he sets his coat on the hook in the hall and their voices hush.

“Hey!” Bossuet yells. “Come join.” Musichetta pats the space on the sofa next to her, and Joly swallows the lump in his throat that just happens to appear. He does go and sit, and immediately Bousset’s arm is on the back of the sofa. Musichetta places a hand on his leg.

“What are you playing?” Joly gulps, taking his had sanitizer out of his pocket and rubbing his hands with it. It’s like a nervous tick.

“Call of Duty, and can I just say, I am smashing the Eagle over here.” She laughs, and Joly can’t help but laugh too because he read somewhere that laughter is infectious; and this is one infection he doesn’t mind picking up.

“I’m just letting you win!” Bossuet retorts. He looks down at Joly’s legs. “Are those new trousers?” he asks. Damn Courfeyrac and his never failing advice.

Joly smiles. “Yeah, do you like?”

“I definitely love them.” Musichetta grins mischievously. Joly feels a blush coming on.

“They look good on you.” Bossuet nods encouragingly.

“Possibly even better off.” Musichetta adds, and Joly suddenly feels like they’ve planned this. Either that or they’re all ridiculously in sync and finishing each other’s corny chat up lines. What kind of couple were they?

“Uhm, thanks?” Joly says, shifting slightly closer to Bossuet because his girlfriend was hitting on him, and every atom of his being wanted to flirt back, but his loyalty to his best friend was stronger than all of that.

“Joly, its okay. Bahorel told me.” Bossuet says softly.

 Joly swallowed; he felt ill and maybe a little terrified.

“And we’re glad he did. Because it’s made us work up the courage...” Musichetta says.

“.. We both have a thing for you and, well, we never knew how to talk about it with you. Because it’s weird.”

“Polyamorous relationships aren’t weird, babe.” Musichetta rolls her eyes.

“But yeah, so what do you think?”

“Polyamorous?” Joly asks, looking from one to the other, Bossuet moves to the floor space in front of Joly. “As in… with both of you?” They nod, Musichetta takes Bousset’s hand and clasps it tightly.

“On one condition.” Joly begins, holding a hand up for silence as they both open their mouth to exclaim ‘anything!’ “You never, ever, _ever,_ finish each other’s sentences like this again.”

Musichetta gives him a big kiss there and then, and he can feel Bossuet holding his hand and hear his laughter and Joly really doubts he’s ever going to regret this (but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kill Bahorel at a later date for ratting him out). 


End file.
